Royal Will
by Castigat Ridendo Mores
Summary: Don Pedro is missing, and Messina will be forever shamed if he is not found. Several pairings. Less lighthearted, more dark/angsty than the original play. Written in prose, 3rd person POV. Do enjoy, and review. Rating might increase later. From Much Ado.


**Royal Will**

_a much ado about nothing fanfic._

-~-~-~-

"I learn from this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina." Leonato's eyes skimmed the rest of the missive. It would cost a pretty penny on his part to entertain the prince, but this was of course, an offer he could not refuse. No one ever said no to any of the royal family, not if they valued their cushioned position and their honor. Being the governor of Messina was an occupation that had suited Leonato all these years; he was loathe to give it up just to save a few pence.

"He should be here soon, I was not far ahead of his retinue," the messenger added.

"And how many have you lost in this action?"

"Few, and none of name, sir."

"Good." Leonato's agèd hands rolled up the papers, slipping them into a pocket at his side.

The rest of the company looked on in expectation, turning to him to give the final word on the matter. All except for one. His indomitable niece Beatrice stood nearby, and her body language suggested she very much had something to say, thus Leonato refrained in order to give her the chance to. It was better to let her get what she wanted out there right away; it always was.

"I pray you, Messenger, is Signor Montanto returned from the wars?" Beatrice inquired.

"Of whom do you speak, niece? I know of no Signor Montanto," Leonato interjected.

"My cousin means Signor Benedick, of Padua," Hero clarified for her father, smiling to herself.

To Hero it was more than completely obvious her cousin's real intentions for asking. Beatrice may mock him in company, but with the kind of ardor that signifies great passion, not great dislike. The bitterness was naught but a coverlet to her real, deeply-felt emotions concerning Signor Montanto, or to be accurate, Signor Benedick.

Though it was amusing to watch their wit-matches, Hero had to admit.

She uttered an internal prayer for Benedick and the other soldiers she was acquainted with; that they should come unto Messina in nothing but splendid health. From the messenger's statement that there had been few losses, Hero gleaned the hope that they all would come home in one piece.

But as things tend to happen, only time would tell. Hopefully they should not have to wait long.

-~-~-~-

_several hours later_

-~-~-~-

The prince and his followers had still not arrived. Leonato and his people were beginning to grow worried that something had befallen the troupe, and yet no one seemed to have the gall to say anything. The messenger had been invited to dinner however, in hopes of prying from him some more news that might give them hints about the royal party, where exactly they were, if they were lost at all...

Beatrice had had enough of silence. She was also sage enough to know that no one at the table wished to rock the boat---though truly no one was feeling very calm or peaceful now---asking the questions that needed to be asked. She did not like feeling like she was being idle when there was something to be accomplished.

She turned to the messenger, gained his attention, and then relayed her suspicions.

"Something is clearly amiss," Beatrice argued. "Messenger, did you not say the retinue was only just behind you? Lost you sight of them, then?" she demanded to know, her eyes like that of a hawk's when about to snatch a field-mouse from the ground. The messenger, who was of the age where he lacked a grown man's beard, had never come into contact with such a forceful woman. Indeed to him, it seemed improper that a woman should be so like a shrew when men had been ordained as the dominant sex.

"Gentle lady, I was given instruction to ride quickly so that your uncle might have fair warning of the noble Prince's arrival. I looked not behind me like Orpheus after his Eurydice; by my troth I trained my eyes ahead, in the direction of my horse's gallops. Therefore I know not where I lost the prince and his servants."

The Messinians gathered at the supper table could feel the anxiety. A lost Prince was never a favourable omen in any land.

And lost on the way to the home of their governor, why that was shame enough for any to endure! Some measure had to be taken; they had to do something even if Don Pedro and his retinue were found not. Messina must not be seen to be a paradise for cowards, but a state chock-full of patriots eager to recover their royal master from whatever trouble he may have come across.

"Brother, should we not send out some of the men to look for Don Pedro?" Antonio queried of Leonato, at whose side he was seated, in a chair that had been reserved for the Prince.

"Perhaps in the morning, Antonio. It is the dark of the night now, and only villains and wild beasts dare roam about at these hours. In the morning we can gather what little force we have, give them horses and supply, and the messenger can go with them, to show them the way he came from. If the Prince was only behind him, they must be lost somewhere along that road. That is what logic speaks to me. Messenger, will you go?"

"It is my duty, sir," the messenger said, bowing his head. "With a fresh horse, I will of course, lead."

"Boy." Leonato waved over one of the serving-men.

"Go and fetch me a map of our Messina, and tell the stables to prepare our fastest horses. Also let the kitchen know that this search party shall need victuals to take along with them on their mission. Do all this and bring me that map, with all haste, boy."

The server nodded and dutifully left to go about his errands. Leonato turned back to the guest, and added "Friar Francis shall bless you all before you go, see that you make time to ask for help in the chapel."

"Yes, Governor."

Dinner resumed while the company waited. Everyone was just about to feel relieved when a servant came scurrying into the dining room, stopping to whisper a few words in Leonato's ear. The prognosis did not look good, and intense curiosity swelled up in every Messinian chest.

"God's bones, man, don't keep them waiting! Let them in out of the rain!" the old man bellowed, gesturing towards the door.

A few courtesans gossiped urgently to their neighbours, all the while waiting for the door to be opened to reveal their guests. Their new-arrivèd guests turned out to number only two, and the pair of them were soaking wet from the unexpected summer rainstorm raging outside. They were also deathly pale, grim.

"Beatrice, see you Claudio there?" Hero whispered to her cousin, her eyes barely moving from the mentioned gentleman. "He looks unwell. What has happened? Oh, what has happened to cause him to look so like a shade?" she bemoaned his appearance.

"I am certain they shall presently tell your father and mine uncle. If we are quiet, we may even hear," Beatrice emphasized.

Hero became the picture of quiet in the space of a breath, her womanly nerves on high alert. It was obvious something very bad had happened. Claudio was not oft a serious man, neither was Benedick, who even now stood at his comrade's side like a gargoyle frozen on a precipice for all time. But what mischief? But what crime? But what sorrow did this turn?

"Signor Leonato, we come to deliver the ill-fated news that Don Pedro is missing from our number. We camped for the night but this morning his tent was empty, and he nowhere to be found. The brunt of the soldiers are still canvassing the area, but there are no clues to where he might have wandered off to, or who might have taken him, where and why. We came here unto Messina to ask humbly for the assistance of your finest men," Claudio concluded.

"And you shall have it, noble Claudio. We ourselves were making preparations for a searching party, as none of the retinue had arrived yet. By the morning we shall be ready."

-~-~-~-

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Please forgive the anachronisms, and modern language. I have a good G.P.A. in college, but I am not an expert in Elizabethan dialog and can hardly craft such written masterpieces as Shakespeare can and did, but I give it my little try. This is still set in the time of the play, it's not moved into the future, so just keep that in mind. I would also really appreciate reviews, as they do encourage me to keep on with my writing. So if you could drop me a line, 'twould be nice.


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